Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Exactly like a predator too.
Although falls on me is a wrong statement.
He mostly falls on the bed.
Goes flat on his abdomen as he resumes parting my legs until I’m almost doing a split. And then with his rough, scrape-y hands on my thighs, he… stares.
At my pussy.
And the fact that I’m on display for him like that makes me arch my hips and bite my lip again.
It makes me blush something fierce.
For the past two weeks, I’ve imagined this moment several times. Me going to his motel; me confessing my crush to him; and then me telling him what we need to do to purge it.
I always knew that there was going to be a kiss.
And then, of course, sex.
But every time I got to the sex part, I could never ever imagine it clearly. And it’s not as if I haven’t read any books or seen any movies. I have and I also masturbate like a normal girl. So I couldn’t figure out why.
I can now.
It’s because I never could’ve imagined this.
I never could’ve imagined lying on his motel bed, with him between my thighs.
Or that he’d be lying on his stomach and I’d be looking down at his dark head, his rippling shoulders, his upper back morphing into muscled hills.
As braced on his elbows, he… gazes.
At the place between my thighs.
With such focus and concentration and God, devotion.
And I was already so wet from his biting kisses.
I was so drenched and sloppy, but now under his scrutiny, I become wetter.
I feel a drop of my juice sliding out of my hole and he growls.
It’s so deep that the bed rumbles with it.
And I love that so much that I arch my hips even harder, feeling a couple more drops leaking out. As if I’m a glass full of lust and my juices are running over. And then I jump because he rubs his thumb there, right at my hole, right at the center of my pussy.
“I knew it,” he rasps.
“Knew what?” I whisper, looking down at his thoughtful frown.
He keeps staring at my pussy, examining it. “That you’d be this tight.”
I jump again because his words are accompanied by a push of his thumb in my hole.
Only a slight push though.
As if testing the waters.
“I-I… Guys l-like that, don’t they?”
His eyes jump up to mine. “You don’t need to worry about what guys like.”
“I —”
His hand on my thigh flexes. “No. Mine, remember?”
I swallow at his possessive tone. “D-do you like it?”
He goes back to looking at my pussy, his thumb circling over my hole. “Yeah.” Then, “Which means it’s not a good thing for you.”
I know.
Because it will hurt.
But I’m not going to be a crybaby. Even if I want to. So, so badly.
Because I’ve asked him to do this.
So I say, “I won’t cry.”
Still circling my hole, he looks up again. “You will.”
I will. I know.
“I won’t bleed.”
His jaw clenches. “That’ll happen too.”
I know that too.
Because it’s not as if it’s in my hands. It’s not in his either.
But it’s okay. It’s okay.
I will survive.
“Do you have a condom?”
His eyes are burning. “Yeah.”
I lick my lips. “Will you wear it?”
He licks his lips too. “You want me to wear it?”
I nod. “Y-yes. I’m not… I’m not on the pill, remember?”
For several seconds, he circles and circles his thumb around my hole. While staring and staring at me. As if casting a spell or something. Rubbing my pussy to make magic.
And he does make magic.
Because the more he circles my hole, the harder he stares at me, the more restless I get.
The more I leak.
And throb.
Oh yeah, I’m throbbing. In all of this, I forgot about the throbbing. The pulsing.
The clenching of not only my hole but also my clit.
God, my clit.
That he hasn’t even touched yet.
“That still doesn’t mean I have to wear it,” he says finally.
It takes me a second to understand what he means. My lips part when I do. “But —”
“Because…” He throws me a lopsided smirk. “I could always pull out.”
My breaths hitch. “But that’s not —”
“I could always,” he continues, in such a conversational tone, his thumb going around and around, “blow on your soft, creamy belly.”
“Reign —”
“Right here.”
“Where?”
He moves his hand from my thigh and brings it up. He strokes my creamy belly before tapping his thumb on the spot. “On your tight little belly button.”
“On my…”
He dips his thumb in it, like he’s doing with my pussy. “Yeah. I could come right here. Fill this little button up with my load. Although,” he squints his eyes as if debating his choices, “if I get to do you bareback, I’m gonna come so much, I could paint almost your whole fucking body with my wad. So then maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“I should come on your tits.”
I squirm as he keeps stroking my belly and my core. “My t-tits?”